We framed this season’s arts issue around the idea of masks. A powerful symbol in the art world, they are used to amplify, disguise, manipulate and conceal. In the theatre, they help to create a new persona, whether in a literal sense or something more symbolic. It can be psychological or physical: a mask hides the multitude of complicated feelings that separate our public and private selves. 

As one of the greatest actors of her generation – or any other, for that matter – it seemed appropriate that Judi Dench should be on the cover to announce our theme. Dench is so familiar to audiences that many assume they really know her, and over the years her public persona has ascended to that of “national treasure” – she is so deeply held in our affection that one can forget she is actually a human being. Now 90, she limits her work to that which she can manage with failing eyesight, but she maintains a pretty busy schedule for all that. Her mind is still busy with all the Shakespearean heroines she has played over the course of her career; she recently co-wrote a book about the playwright called The Man Who Pays the Rent.

Fiona Golfar asked Dench’s friends and colleagues to tell us their best stories about her incredible career. They reveal a woman who is naughty – with a gift for reducing everyone to giggles at inappropriate moments – saucy, seductive, generous, light-hearted and rather good at arts and crafts. Ironically, in an industry in which so many keep their guard up, Dench is without guile. Perhaps the secret to her extraordinary performances is that she remains so emotionally open to her audiences – no one can see the mask. 

Leigh Bowery, the late Australian performance artist, dedicated his career to becoming his own body of work. His multiple guises, known as “looks”, via which he channelled a host of different personalities, were confounding. In some ways the looks obscured the man behind the costumes; they also gave him the freedom to express his true self. As a huge exhibition opens in celebration of his legacy, Victoria Woodcock looks at masks as a creative aid. From Batman to Björk, and from Gillian Wearing to Kneecap, masks are a provocative tool with which to rattle the status quo.

Mike Marino’s skills as a make-up artist have been key to some of the greatest cinematic transformations in recent times. He turned Colin Farrell from matinée idol into the monstrous-looking Oz Cobb in The Penguin, helping Farrell waddle his way towards a Golden Globe. Marino is currently hoping to convert a third Oscar nomination into an actual statuette for his work on A Different Man, for which he worked with Sebastian Stan to create a character who has neurofibromatosis, a genetic disorder that causes tumours to grow along the patient’s nerves. Marino’s skills are sometimes overlooked in an industry in which AI and digital enhancement are increasingly being used in preference to his specialist skills. Jill Krasny finds that in his painstaking efforts to disguise his characters, however, his proudest achievements are when a character’s humanity shines through. 

Where do you go to let your mask fall? For much of Hollywood, that place is the Chateau Marmont. Now almost a century old and still as chic as ever, the hotel off Sunset Boulevard has always been a place for secret assignations, surprise encounters and a safe space in which to let down one’s guard. It’s also a place of creative ferment: the novelist AM Homes has often stayed there while writing and finds it a place where she can reinvent, experiment and risk trying things she might not at home. “It is a kind of halfway house, a perfect bardo, a suspension of reality,” she writes in an essay. Like the best masks, it gives you licence to do things you otherwise wouldn’t dare. 

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THREE MORE STORIES TO READ THIS WEEK

Samba queen Sabrina Sato: ‘Heaven must be similar to Carnival’ The Brazilian star loves sunglasses, massages and her tailor-made costumes Tom Burke is taking the lead Spy, author, cad, space cowboy – the British actor can do it all. In preparation for his next turn in The Seagull, he subverts some classic roles Confessions of the Slutty Cheff The anonymous author’s scorching tales of life as a cook are about to get the Hollywood treatment. What’s the recipe to her success?

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